


John Wick

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, John Wick (Movies), John Wick - Fandom, Joker - Fandom, Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - Fandom, The Joker Jared Leto - Fandom, The Joker dcu - Fandom, joker DCU
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Assassins & Hitmen, Car Accidents, Comfort/Angst, Conspiracy, Continental Hotel (John Wick), Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotions, Established Relationship, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Friendship, Heartache, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, John Wick - Freeform, Joker (DCU) Played by Jared Leto, Lies, Love, Love/Hate, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Married Couple, Relationship(s), Revenge, Running Away, Secrets, Sentimental, The Joker - Freeform, The Joker Suicide Squad, The Joker dcu, Tragedy, True Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Violence, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/You, Joker/Reader, The Joker/Reader, The Joker/wife - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho

Your high heels click on the marble floor, numerous conversations stopping in the hotel’s lobby since you haven’t been seen around in the past 3 years. The concierge can’t hide a smile and you take your sunglasses off, finally making it to the front desk after driving for hours.

“Welcome to the Continental, Miss Y/N. Such a pleasure to see you.”

“Thank you Charon,” you remove 7 gold coins out of your purse and slide them on the counter towards him. “It’s good to see you too.”

“For how long will we have the pleasure of your company?” the man inquires, taking a peek at the computer’s screen to make sure he can shuffle things if needed.

“One night.”

“That will only be 4 coins,” Charon informs and you point out at the tiny pile:

“The rest is for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Y/N,” he smiles again, typing on the keyboard. “Your old room is available; it will be a couple of minutes for us to add a few finishing touches.”

“Sure. Is the manager here?” you ask because you texted him this morning to announce your arrival.

“He’s waiting at the bar,” Charon gestures towards the elevator and you take a deep breath, excited and a bit nervous about the upcoming encounter. “Also, if I may… Allow me to express my deepest condolences.”

You bite on your lip and can’t utter a sound besides nodding your head instead of a reply: although it’s a genuine declaration, it caught you off-guard.

You slowly walk towards the elevator and once inside you press the B button when a hand halts the doors from closing; you know whom those tattooed knuckles belong to. Ares squeezes inside looking like she wants to kill everyone. What else is new?

“I thought that was you,” the woman uses the sign language and you silently gaze at her.

“Which floor?” you sign back.

“10th,” her thumb indicates the number.

The elevator’s doors shut and she analyzes Y/N, deciding to continue the conversation:

“Remember I told you next time we bump into each other I’m going to kill you?” the mute assassin’s threat brings a faint smirk on your lips.

“Shut up,” you elbow her and the smartass response doesn’t fail:

“I’m always as quiet as a mouse.”

You chuckle and Ares grins at her own cleverness, having a nice suggestion for the evening.

“I have the night off; wanna meet later for dinner?”

You are tired as hell but a distraction doesn’t hurt.

“Will 7pm work?” you accept the invitation.

“Awesome!” she signs, delighted you two can catch up. “They have new items on the menu you would enjoy,” Ares winks then her enthusiasm gradually dies out. “I’m sorry about…,” the discussion takes a serious tone and you sniffle, trying hard not to cry.

“Thank you,” you touch your chin and the ding sound reveals its first destination. “I have to bail; I’ll see you soon,” you step out of the elevator and she remains inside.

“It’s a date!” she signs, concerned you’ll burst out in tears as soon as she’s gone.

Yet after the elevator’s door close, Y/N manages to pull herself together; God knows it’s not easy to pretend she’s fine following the tragedy of losing someone she loved with all her heart.

The individual waiting for her at one of the tables at the bar can definitely notice the struggle behind the tired eyes; Winston sipps from his martini and gets up, opening his arms in anticipation.

“There you are,” he gives you a hug, then invites you to sit down.

“Hello Winston,” you place your purse on the floor and Continental’s owner is attempting to small talk:

“Please make an old man happy and confirm your return.”

“You’re anything but old,” you emphasize while he snorts, amused. “I’m not sure; I have to figure out some personal stuff…”

“Of course,” Winston agrees right away given the situation. “Mmmm… I’m terribly sorry for your loss,“ he addresses the heartbroken Y/N.

“Thank you…” you mumble, avoiding eye contact since the painful subject hurts more than any physical wound you ever sustained.

“I wanted to come attend the funeral yet I was out of the country,” the man underlines.

“No worries. I appreciate the flowers you sent… …”

Moments of complete stillness before Winston changes the topic; he knows better than to prolong your agony. A manager with his flair can at least guess the extenuating circumstances that led to your presence on the premises.

“Any plans for the near future?”

“I’m going to stay with Jonathan until I decide.”

Winston wishes to suggest a couple of options but he’s interrupted by your warning:

“Someone might come searching for me.”

He taps his fingernails against the martini glass, the weak echo dissipating in the background noise.

“Is that someone…somebody’s husband?” his furrowed eyebrows prompt an answer not difficult to estimate:

“More like… ex-husband…”

The manager inhales, debating on your confession.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” he reassures without any hesitation; heaven knows a domestic dispute is the last kind of mess Continental needs but it will probably pass undetected. “Would you care for a drink?”

Suddenly, Winston’s cell goes off and he retrieves it out of his suit’s pocket, apologizing for the delay.

“I’m sorry, I really have to get this,” he slides the screen, attentively listening to the person speaking. “Are you kidding me?!” the man raises his voice with contempt. “Damn…,” he rubs his forehead, annoyed. “Well, he brought it upon himself! Transfer me,” the manager passes the sentence without hesitation after his call reaches the correct department. ”Accounts payable: 11111. Effective immediately: Magnus Stonnenberg, excommunicado. Open contract: 2 million dollars. Distribution: international,” and he hangs up. “Work never ends,” Winston adds even if it’s not necessary; you are perfectly aware how the company works and what it means to run it.

“What happened?” you curiously investigate.

“Trouble on the 15th floor: Magnus murdered Anuscka Volovdya on the hotel grounds, thus I have to implement punitive measures. This is neutral environment and the rules are clear: no killing. Cocktail?” he lifts his glass up and you politely decline.

“No, thank you. If it’s all the same, I will retreat to my quarters. It was a very long drive and I can’t wait to freshen up. I will come see you in the morning before I leave; would that be ok?”

“Of course,” Winston stands up in the same time with you, a faint smile lingering on his face as he watches you distancing yourself from the bar. He didn’t see you in a long time and he can tell that although you look pretty much the same, something has certainly changed.

Everyone’s cells start chiming and ringing, including yours: the text messages keep on popping up with the manager’s most recent order regarding Stonnenberg.

You wander along the small corridor leading the stairs when at the corner Magnus almost crashes into you; he seems distressed and no big surprise due to his present predicament.

“Are you back?” he hisses while quickening the pace in the opposite direction because he wants to get the hell out of there.

“No,” the short acknowledgement triggers his cockiness mixed with relief.

“Great! One less to worry about!”

You frown at the unnecessary statement: pursuing a bounty is not financial gain you are momentarily interested in; you have more important problems on your plate and chasing a persona non grata isn’t on your list.

************

Next evening, 7:13pm

“There you are!” John exclaims as soon as he sees you. “Come on in,” he grabs the two suitcases out of your hands, leading the way around the house. “Did you get stuck in traffic?”

“Yes,” you close the door and follow him into one of the bedrooms downstairs already prepared for your visit. “Traffic was terrible, took me one hour to pass Lincoln Avenue.”

“Well…” he places the luggage by the bed, “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too… Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Jonathan.”

Despite having his hair in a ponytail, the shorter strands slide out and John blows them off his cheeks, irritated.

“Yeah, absolutely. Plenty of space.”

“What’s that smell?” you sniff the air, intrigued.

“I cooked chicken Alfredo.”

“Oh no,” you crinkle your nose and he laughs at your despair. “Are your skills as bad as I remember?”

“Worse,” he admits. “Helen is not here to guide… me…”, John swallows the last word and you feel compelled to soothe his grief.

“I’m sorry she’s gone… You had a terrific partner…”, you sadly smile and continue . “We pay such a heavy price for leaving the organization… I must say you got a better deal than I did.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds and you could swear there’s no trace of Baba Yaga inside him; I suppose this is John Wick’s greatness: his ability to switch from an apparent normal guy to the deadliest assassin in a blink of an eye.

“Umm… do you want me to help you unpack?” he breaks the silence and you lift the first suitcase on the bed, opening the metal clasps.

“I don’t have a lot; just some basic necessities,” you explain and gulp when you take out the device you use on a regular basis. “I… I still pump the milk and… and throw it away since I don’t have my baby to feed anymore…”

Jonathan exhales, sensitive to the mother’s sorrow: he knows a thing or two about losing a loved one and Y/N uncontrollably sobbing triggers emotions he kept bottled up for weeks. He pulls you in his arms and you hug him back, hopelessly crying on his shoulder after displaying such restraint in the past days. 

“Why didn’t he drive the car? Why?” you keep on repeating the question and John understands what you’re referring to:

Two months ago The Joker was supposed to bring his three weeks old son from the beach house to The Penthouse and didn’t; he had a meeting and instead he sent one of his henchmen to drive Kase back to you and they never made it. There was a horrible accident on Glissan Street: the car was smashed to pieces by a huge truck, both driver and the baby dying on impact. You couldn’t stop blaming your husband for his indifference regarding the safety of his own child. I supposed the meeting and making money was infinitely more critical than driving his son home.

Maybe if J navigated the vehicle, he would have taken another route and you would still have your tiny treasure right now.

You’re calming down a bit and John wipes your tears, upset to see you broken beyond anything he could ever fix.

“Do you want to lie down?”

“No,” you whimper and fight to regain your composure. “I’m a little bit hungry…”

“Well,” your friend puckers his lips, “depending on how bad it is we might have to order something. Shall I…call anybody for you?” he hints and surely didn’t predict the reply:

“My anybody is probably too busy with his mistress or planning a heist, can’t be bothered with any type of insignificant matters.”

Your friend seems shocked and you enlighten the mystery for him:

“I followed J so I know… That’s why I decided enough is enough. I packed minimum necessary in a hurry and left… … …I should have killed him… …” your voice dies out and your attitude proves Jonathan that you most than likely tried to. “Can we eat now please?”

“Should I actually order Italian?” he plays along for your sake.

“I’ll try the chicken Alfredo first.”

“Shit! You’re brave,” his brutal honesty makes you giggle and whimper in the same time. “C’mon then, food’s on the stove. Hopefully we’ll survive,” he smirks and you nod in agreement, grateful to have a soul to talk to since your husband’s lack of empathy made it so much harder to cope with your son’s demise.

***************

Same evening, 7:30pm – Continental Hotel

“Mister Joker,” Winston greets The King of Gotham. “Welcome to New York!”

The gush of wind sweeping the terrace on top of the building messes J’s locks and for once he couldn’t care less.

“Hello Winston,” your spouse growls, barely able to concentrate after he slept a couple of hours the previous night.

“Grape juice on ice?” the manager’s hospitality emerges out of necessity because The Clown isn’t exactly the easiest character to accommodate.

“Is my wife here?” J quizzes, ignoring Winston’s cordiality.

“Walk with me,” the hotel owner persuades your husband; they move alongside the concrete path bordered by decorative shrubs as information is shared. “Y/N was here.”

“She’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“Where did she go?” The Joker sneers.

Winston fails to spill the beans and J is aware he can’t push for a disclosure, not with a high ranking member of the organization. So he attempts a different strategy.

“Imagine my surprise when I returned home after a meeting just to find out my wife abandoned the nest,” he shows management a post-it with your handwritten note:

Do what you want with the rest.

“She just took a few things, thus I have to personally discuss with her a very crucial dilemma: what am I supposed to do with the baby’s items? I have a room full of them. So I’m asking: WHERE.IS.MY.WIFE?”

“Mister Joker, you forget that in my line of business I am good at reading people and I can tell when they lie,” Winston elegantly throws it out there for the heck of it.

The King of Gotham halts and cracks his neck, displeased with the comment.

“Then tell me, am I lying?!”

The manager sighs, carefully analyzing J’s features: although he looks pretty much the same, something has certainly changed.

“Maybe she’s staying with a friend,” he insinuates and your husband articulates a sentence rarely spoken aloud:

“Thank you,” J stomps away, already having a few ideas about your whereabouts.

Winston huffs, intrigued to have discerned a crazy detail while reading The Clown’s reactions: besides the fact he wasn’t lying, something else stood out. 

“He loves her…” management mumbles to himself. “I bet he doesn’t even know it.”

*************

10:34 pm

John softly knocks at the cracked bedroom’s door, unsure if you’re awake or not.

“Y/N, do you need anything before I go to sleep?”

There’s no answer and he creeps inside only to see you passed out with your hand hanging over the side of the bed. Jonathan tucks you in, feeling awkward about your unresponsiveness.

“Hey, are you ok?” he gently shakes you and freezes when he realizes there’s an empty pill bottle on the nightstand.

“Oh God!” he panics and reads the label. “Trazodone 300 mg: Take 1 tablet by mouth nightly for depression/insomnia.” That’s the highest dose for the medication and he taps on your cheeks, concerned you took a bunch of them at once. “Y/N, Y/N! Can you hear me?!”

You moan and open your eyes, unhappy to be woken up in such a hasty fashion.

“Jesus, lemme sleep… would you?!…” you grumble and turn on the other side, groggy from the drug.

“How many sleeping pills did you take?” John doesn’t give up and you yawn:

“One…my last one…” you adjust your body on the comfortable mattress, not comprehending why your host is agitated. “I’m exhausted…” you close your eyes and he lingers next to your bed, relieved the situation was a misinterpretation from his part.

**************

11:32am, New York

“Oh my…”The Bowery King deciphers a missive a dove flew in 10 minutes ago; he got a whiff of some valuable data yesterday and the new documentation is by far the best conspiracy and revenge scheme he stumbled upon this year. “Would you look at that,” the man grins, caressing the bird’s feathers. “What do you think?” he addresses the winged companion. “Should we be nice and tell Y/N and Mister Joker their son is not dead?”


	2. Chapter 2

2 Days Later

You walk down on Cherry Lane Street when you lastly get to your destination: the homeless guy begging for change in front of the fence surrounding Yellow Star bus station. You take out your empty vial and a gold coin from your pocket, dropping them in his cup; might as well take advantage of your numerous resources while visiting the area.

“God bless, miss!” the man rattles the container and you whisper:

“I need a refill for this medication from Dr. Wong.”

“Give us one hour,” he replies in a low tone, then louder. “Thank you, miss! God bless!”

So many people around and nobody notices the courier on a bike swiftly retrieving the ampule from the bum’s fingers.

You start walking away, willing to kill some time until your order is ready: it’s a nice morning and it would be better to wait than drive back to John’s house. In the matter of fact, one of your favorite coffee shops in town is just three blocks further and you have to admit you’ve missed the place. Maybe your gracious host wants something too; better call and find out.

“Hello?” he picks up immediately.

“Hi, I’m going to Kavarna. Should I bring you a drink?”

“Oh, absolutely. Large espresso, quadruple shot.”

“You mean heart attack?”

Jonathan laughs, confirming his strong refreshment.

“Yes, I think that’s the other name for it.”

“Suit yourself,” you lift your shoulders up. “I will become a legend by effortlessly killing Baba Yaga. You don’t have a bounty on your head, do you? I can collect the money also.”

“Nope, no bounty,” he informs, amused at your statement.

“Damn… I’m disappointed Mister Wick, but I will still deliver your coffee because we’re friends,” you decide to be lenient.

“I appreciate your effort,” John smirks and Y/N huffs at his cheekiness.

“It will cost you 3 gold coins!”

“Three?! That’s a rip off,” the complaint follows.

“I had to eat your chicken Alfredo so you owe me,” the reminder makes him snicker.

“Fair enough,” he stretches on the couch and rolls his eyes when the doorbell suddenly rings. “Later,” Jonathan cuts it short, wondering who the heck is bothering him this early in the day.

“Byeeee,” you hang up, continuing your promenade towards 87th Avenue.

“Coming!!!!” he yells since the doorbell is obnoxiously pressed over and over again. “I said I’m coming!” John hurries and yanks at the nob, surprised to see your husband as soon as the door is opened. “Mister J,” he sort of greets the uninvited guest.

“Wick,” The Joker sucks on his teeth, barging in the next second. “Is my wife here?” he eyeballs the living room, completely worn out after the recent sleepless nights.

“No,” the simple response is ignored.

“This is my fifth stop in two days,” J emphasizes his unfruitful quest. “I’m a man of many tricks, yet it’s not easy to find her. Do you mind if I take a look around?” your spouse pretends to be polite while stomping up the stairs, not that he got an OK from the owner of the house.

“Yes, I do mind!” John frowns, closely pursuing The King of Gotham.

“That’s too bad, Wick! Call the cops then!” The Joker barks, glancing throughout the 4 bedrooms upstairs. There’s no trace of Y/N and he descends the staircase, remembering there are 3 more bedrooms on the ground level. “She didn’t contact you at all?” he inquires and freezes when the first inspected room reveals a familiar sight adorning the nightstand: a small shrine containing Kase’s framed picture, a folded blue onesie and the tiniest pair of socks.

J approaches the cherished tokens, annoyed at your friend’s stunt.

“She’s not here, hm?!” his clenched jaw makes it difficult to articulate the words.

“She’s not!” John insinuates the obvious, apparently unconcerned by The Joker’s escalating temper. But that’s only on the surface because he knows what your husband is capable of: in his case it never takes more than a push for a total mood switch.

“Don’t play games with me, Wick!! She’s hiding right here!”

“She’s not hiding! If she was, you’d never find her. You were expected to show up: like I said, Y/N is not hiding! You ask if she’s here and she’s not home. Frankly, Mister J, I don’t remember ever trespassing on your property!”

The Clown Prince of Crime stands in the middle of the room with his mouth opened, appalled he’s being lectured.

“You have some nerve, Wick!” he shrieks, struggling not to snap at Jonathan’s honest remarks. “I’m prepared to overlook the outburst with one condition: don’t text her I arrived. I presume you have her new number?…“

***************

After one hour and a half

“Jonathan, I got your coffee!” you enter the empty kitchen, yet there’s no trace of him. “John?” you set the cup on the counter and turn around at the husky intonation:

“He’s in the courtyard.”

You glare at The Joker with mixed feelings; the only ones he can actually read are hate and disgust.

“What do you want?” Y/N sneers.

He’s more than displeased at your bitterness after tracking you down for days: it would be really nice for you to show some gratitude. Unfortunately, that’s not how things work.

“Is that how you address your partner?!”

“Ex-partner!” you persist and J has to say it:

“I wasn’t aware we divorced!”

“I thought my message was clear,” you interrupt his nonsense before it spirals out of control.

“You left without giving me instructions on what to do with the baby stuff,” your estranged spouse grumbles.

“I told you to do whatever you want with the items I left behind!”

“Meaning?!” he shouts, exasperated.

“Donate them, burn them, put them in the garbage. I don’t care! If you’re confused, request help from your girlfriend! I’m certain she’ll be more than happy to oblige!”

The Joker would normally lose it at this point, however there’s something distracting him from going entirely bonkers.

“My what?!…”

“Your mistress, J ! The woman you’ve been dating! Or are you going to play stupid and deny it? I saw you, ok? So don’t even try your sneaky ways! I’m not five years old!! And definitely not an idiot!” you lash out since you have plenty to mention on the subject. “Is that why you didn’t…” and your voice breaks, “… drive Kase to the Penthouse? Because you had a meeting with her?…”

The King of Gotham has no idea what to do with all the accusations thrown at him; it’s obvious no matter what he utters it’s going to fail.

“I don’t have a mistress, alright?!” his index finger goes straight up in the air.

“Then what were you doing at that woman’s house? Was she polishing your gun?!”

To his own amazement, J has to recollect from your criticism the best way he knows how:

“Nobody’s been polishing my gun!”

Your ears are ringing from the outrage building up in your heart, that’s why you barely discern what he’s pronouncing.

“Murderer…” you mumble and that’s enough to stop his defensive rampage: a plain word that’s been used to describe him a million times, yet it never came from Y/N and not with such a heavy connotation. “You…you were supposed to bring my son home in a car… instead he was brought to me in a coffin… O-only three weeks old…”

The Joker would love to retaliate but you’re crying so hard the only sentence coming out is very far from his intended resentment:

“I know I should’ve driven the car… I didn’t… and I can’t take it back. I also know you tried to kill me; I was pretending to be asleep. If you detest me so much, why didn’t you pull the trigger? It was impossible to miss two inches away from my face.”

The lack of an explanation gives J a nudge in the appropriate direction:

“Do you know why I didn’t react at all? I trusted you wouldn’t do it.”

You keep on wiping your tears and John slides the patio door, apologizing in his own residence.

“Umm…Sorry to intrude: someone just tossed this over the fence,” he shows the couple a piece of paper. “Everything good?” he scans the premises since the tense atmosphere worries him, especially Y/N struggling to regain her composure.

“What’s with that paper?” The Joker growls, dismissing the question.

“It’s a message from The Bowery King, requesting a meeting at your and I quote: earliest convenience for urgent business.”

“Urgent business?…” you repeat, sniffling. “Regarding?…”

“It doesn’t specify,” Jonathan hands you the missive and you’re intrigued.

“He never summons anybody unless it’s important… I’m going,” you decide on the spot, jiggling the keys from your car.

“I’m coming too,” J offers to accompany his distressed wife.

“I’m going alone!” you circle around him and the obnoxious comment annoys an already upset Y/N.

“Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

*************

“Please, take a seat,” the man extends his left arm towards the two chairs located in front of his desk. “I was hoping Mister Joker would join us,” he intertwines his fingers while maintaining a calm smile.

“Can you please tell me why I’m here?” you finally speak after not making a sound the whole trip; you found it useless to launch a conversation: the confinement of a car was overwhelming when your undesired escort couldn’t probably wait for a second chance to fight.

“Of course,” the grin widens. “Though I’m afraid I must open a can of worms; I urge you to acknowledge it’s necessary in order to enlighten the mystery of this gathering. No objections? Awesome,” he wiggles in his beat up recliner, delighted to initiate his debriefing. “Mister Joker, is it true that in the past 6 months you’ve been frequenting a certain establishment belonging to a Miss Evelyn Black?”

“Excuse me?” J leans over the desk and you close your eyes, sickened at the already bad vibe given from the strange situation.

“Sir, please keep in mind I am not a judge and I mean no disrespect,” The Bowery King lifts his arms in surrender. “I am merely trying to aid and I swear it with all make sense in the end. So, Mister Joker, did you or did you not?”

Your husband puckers his lips, muttering mostly to himself.

“Yeah.”

“And are you aware Miss Black accommodates a lot of gentlemen with her busy schedule?”

“Is that her name?” you finally growl, numbness taking over. “Six months?” you don’t give J an opportunity to reply to your first inquiry. “You started seeing that woman six months ago?! When I was pregnant with our son?!” the angered wife is slowly transforming into the person she was before leaving the organization and The Bowery King is relying on it. “Did the sight of me carrying our baby gross you out??!!”

“What?!” The Joker snaps. “What are you talking about?! You didn’t gross me out! How dare you meddling in my private affairs?!” J counterattacks the man’s statement, feeling cornered from both sides. “Who do you think you are, hm?!”

“I didn’t blame you for anything Mister Joker,” the devious individual affirms. “Like I said, I’m no judge.”

“Then what’s the point of this charade?” your spouse yells and it’s a great relief humiliation can’t be measured because you probably surpassed the threshold.

“Did you know that Magnus Stonnenberg is one of her passionate admirers?” The King’s revelation drops the hint and your body instantly stiffens.

“No! Why the hell should I care?!” J yells, unable to control his disposition after what he perceives to be a despicable insult.

“Magnus… Magnus was just declared ex-communicado two days ago,” you disclose, puzzled. “I was at the Continental when it happened: he killed Anuscka Volovdya on hotel’s ground.”

“He sure did,” the man agrees. “Do you know why?”

“If you don’t quit this show, I’m gonna blow your brains out! I don’t care I’m on your territory!” The Joker’s psychotic gaze underlines the threat he’s ready to fulfill; the Soup Kitchen owner takes a deep breath, rushing towards the conclusion.

“Magnus Stonnenberg is a very jealous man, Mister Joker. Maybe he didn’t like the fact you were spending so much time with the lady he adores; he might have even thought you’re her new favorite. There were…” and The Bowery King pauses,”…reported instances when he allegedly attacked, wounded or even killed men that got too close to Miss Black.”

“And how the fuck is this relevant to me?!” your husband is preparing to jump over the desk and squeeze the life out of your insolent host.

“If I may be brutally blunt, sir,” The Bowery King accentuates each term, “you’re a man nobody likes to mess with. So maybe instead of a face to face confrontation, Stonnenberg might have chosen a different approach: if you took something he loved from him, maybe he took something you loved from you?”

“What are you saying?” you ask, perplexed. “He was involved in the car crash that killed my baby?!”

The Joker momentarily forgot his indignation since he can’t believe the sentences pouring out of the man comfortably resting in the recliner.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” The Bowery King smirks. “There’s only one important detail though: your son was removed from the car before it was smashed to pieces.”

J gasps and you cover your mouth with shaky fingers, sobbing at the unexpected revelation.

“My… my son’s alive??!!”

“This is what I managed to find out from my sources: Magnus plotted for a while, waiting for the perfect occasion to strike. The opportunity arose when your child was send home in the vehicle with just one driver at the stop light on Montgomery Avenue; as you know the area is pretty much abandoned. The driver might have thought it was safe to take a deserted route, yet it was Stonnenberg’s chance to strike. It’s not hard to kill one chauffeur, remove a three weeks old from his car seat and replace him with God knows what. It’s not hard if you have accomplices also.”

You’re becoming increasingly agitated and The Joker’s intimidating silence prompts last bits of information.

“It seems Anuscka Volovdya was one of Magnus’s main conspirators. When he didn’t pay her the promised price, she menaced to jeopardize the entire operation. Two days ago at the Continental, Anuscka found out you were there and she planned to confess. Magnus couldn’t have that happen so he executed her even if that resulted in him being declared ex-communicado. I assume it’s better to have your revenge no matter the consequences, if the final result is the same: you’ll never know your son didn’t die in the car accident.”

“Are you sure Kase is still alive? Where is he?” Y/N whispers in disbelief.

“Not sure, but I’m working on finding out as we speak,” The Bowery King reassures and you abruptly stand up from your chair, deciding it’s time to bail.

“Thank you very much! Spare no expense in finding out what really happened to my baby! I will be back with compensation,” you storm out of the room and The Joker follows, fuming at the shocking news.

“Slow down, would you?” J grabs your hand and it’s enough to make you burst. You aggressively push him away, hissing:

“This is all your fault! You couldn’t keep it in your pants and now I have no idea where our baby is! I don’t know if anybody feeds him, changes him or holds him!! Or maybe he was abandoned in a ditch to die anyway!!”

“I didn’t sleep with that woman, do you understand?! What the hell is wrong with everybody?!”

Y/N has no more tears to cry and no more endurance for lies; she has a purpose again and it doesn’t include the man she considers her ex.

You rush on the convoluted hallways, ignoring his justifications and almost bite one of The King men’s head off that is brave enough to verbalize what the rest of the crew is curious about:

“Hey Y/N, are you back?”

“YES, I AM BACK!!” the ferocious attitude makes him shrivel up while placing his rags in the locker:

“Jesus, I was just asking…” he quietly protests, glad to see you are exiting the building without further retribution.

You are the first one to get in the car and immediately lock it before J gets in.

“Hey, open up!” he knocks on the window and has to step aside when you race out of the parking lot in a frenzy.

“Are you serious?” he flares his arms around when John steadily drives up to him; your friend was patiently waiting outside since he didn’t want to intrude on the meeting. 

“Need a ride?” Jonathan suggests and The Clown gets in the SUV, simmering with vexation. “What happened?” the question instigates a candid reaction:

“I fucked up.”

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

The Joker listens at the bedroom’s door, impatient to have a conversation with you. It seems you are engaged into a fervent phone call with Winston and figured he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Please, anything you can discover would be a great help! U-hum… U-hum… Thank you,” and you hang up, which queues your husband to walk into the room.

You completely ignore him, scrolling through the numerous text messages you sent to your connections; several are already answering back and hopefully you can get some news soon. The more people are involved into the project, the more chances to find Kase and untangle the mystery of what happened to him after he was removed from the car.

“You left me there,” The Joker sneaks in and closes the door behind him. “Luckily we had Wick with us so he gave me a ride.”

No reaction. He takes a deep breath, trying to get your awareness.

“I didn’t sleep with Evelyn; sex wasn’t the reason why I kept visiting her. I know how that asshole made it sound and he was totally out of line!”

You quickly glance at him, busy replying to Ares since you feel you’re going to explode soon.

“The only skill I was interested in is the fact that she is an excellent painter and a popular art smuggler, OK?” J raises his voice, sort of annoyed you neglect to participate into his monologue. “I did not cheat, alright?” he approaches his wife. “First of all: I’m VERY picky! Second of all: why would I want a woman everyone else had?! I don’t like used toys. Third: nobody’s been polishing my gun as you tastefully addressed the issue! I have one Queen and I married her!!”

A little bit of doubt in your eyes and he utilizes the opportunity.

“You said you saw me going to her house? I did! The Bowery King asked if it was for the last 6 months? Yeah, I did! You know why?!”

At least now The Joker got your attention: you play it cool but he guesses you’re torn apart by his confession.

Many unfortunate events crammed in lately and hating the man you love made life infinitely more unbearable.

“Why…?” you barely muster the strength to inquire and he sees it as a possibility to mend a few broken pieces; although you can hide your emotions well, J can still read between the lines.

Maybe that’s why he answers with another question:

“Do you realize there are just three Monet paintings in circulation on the black market in the entire world? You admire his work and it took a lot of effort and a substantial fortune to acquire The Water Lily Pond painting. Evelyn Black helped with the transaction, then I had her make some modifications to the original masterpiece.”

You keep staring at The King of Gotham, uncertain about the stuff being tossed your way: is he lying or telling the truth?… In your line of work translating feelings is a huge part of the job; ultimately you had the best mentor to teach you the ropes when you started with the organization: none other than the legendary Baba Yaga. Despite his reputation and to your own amazement, John was one of the few hitmen with integrity and perfectly mastered the aptitude of not being a jerk. Such a rare gem… And blissfully unaware of it himself.

On the opposite end, The Joker is a jerk and flawlessly acquainted with his own “captivating” personality that made you fall in love with him anyway.

Also, doesn’t appear to be deceitful for the moment.

And you despise yourself even more for wanting to believe him.

“What… modifications?…” you throw him a bone and J is definitely not going to pass on the alternative of explaining his actions.

“I wanted to surprise you so I took advantage of Miss Black’s capabilities in the art field; I had her add small images to the authentic canvas: an evolution of you being pregnant, the nine frames culminating with a tenth: the new mother holding our son. Similar to a timeline,” he emphasize and you look intrigued, which might be a positive sign. “Needless to say it was tedious, difficult work, especially because she had to apply special pigments you can’t find at every corner of the street. Apparently you can’t mix old paint with contemporary shades, thus I had to order aged, special colors from Italy, Spain and France. That’s why I went to her place so often: I had to supervise the long process and make sure it turns out astonishing. Then…” and The Joker pauses,”…Kase was gone and I didn’t know what to do with my gift: bring it home or not? Would you have loved it? Would it make you sadder? I continued to drive to Evelyn’s and glare at the stupid painting for hours, undecided on what to do…”

J watches you bite on your cheek, then straightens his shoulders as you utter the words:

“… … … You ruined a genuine Monet?”

Your spouse might be a smooth talker when needed, yet he’s not wasting his versatility on this statement:

“I didn’t ruin it; I made it better!”

Silence from both parties. A good or bad omen? Hard to decipher the riddle with two individuals tangled into a relationship that somehow worked despite countless peculiarities meant to keep them apart.

“I have to talk to Jonathan,” you finally mutter and The Joker steps in front of you.

“Talk to me!”

“Unless you know the exact location of the suitcase full of gold coins he’s been safekeeping for me, I really have to speak to him. Or do you want to hammer the whole basement searching for it?”

Y/N walks out of the bedroom and J lingers inside, evesdropping on the conversation happening downstairs. He can’t understand the chat, but you are probably notifying John about the details your husband left out.

Might as well join the party, therefore The Clown pops up in the living room with a plea impossible to refuse:

“Hey Wick, can I stay here? I don’t care if you say no, I’m not going to leave.”

Your friend crosses his arms on his chest, focusing on the random topic:

“How could I deny such a polite request? Of course you can stay Mister Joker; my house is your house.”

You’re watching the free show unamused; usually it would make you smile…now you lack the depth for such connotations.

“Don’t get smart with me, Wick!” J growls and Jonathan pushes for a tiny, unnecessary quarrel.

“I’m not; although generally speaking, I fancy considering myself a smart guy.”

The Joker opens his mouth and you’re not in the mood for whatever the heck they’re initiating:

“I’m going to pump, then after you dig out the suitcase I’ll take half to the Bowery King,” you announce your plans to them.

“You can do that and rest; I’ll deliver the coins,” John immediately offers. “I can stop by Aurelio’s car shop and ask for his collaboration: he has a lot of associates, doesn’t hurt to get him involved. You have plenty of gold.”

“I have two more suitcases in the Continental’s safe and two more at The Penthouse. It doesn’t matter if it’s all gone as long as I can find my son.”

“I know gold coins are preferred; don’t forget we have a lot of money too,” J reckons with spite.

Is he reminding you or Jonathan?…

*************

Your husband spent the last hour in the garden, talking and texting with a lot of people; needless to mention he’s capitalizing on his network also. Winston disclosed Stonneberg’s contract is still opened, meaning the son of a bitch is out there; you have to scoop him before anybody else does.

“Y/N…” The Joker tiptoes in your quarters. “I thought you were taking a nap,” he huffs when he sees you at the edge of the bed.

You glare at the vial on the nightstand, sharing your idea for a future you wish will come true:

“I didn’t have my medicine in two days; I won’t take it anymore because if we get Kase back… I will nurse him. It all goes in the milk and I want to be able to feed my baby… Do you think his little heart is still beating?…” you sniffle and J is currently debating on a clever response since his mind is blank; one could deduce messing up is encoded in his DNA, but on such a huge scale… well, it gives new interpretations to the term even for him.

The grieving woman seeking reassurance for their loss is trying to make sense of the pointless occurrences that lead to Kase being an innocent victim and The Joker can’t render clarification: he has no clue why he asked her to marry him and why she said yes, it’s not that he’s husband material or a family man. Perhaps Y/N thought he could be… just enough to get by, that’s why she accepted his proposal.

Most women would have cringed at the concept. Most women. Not Y/N.

Most women would have flinched at the notion of having his baby. Most women. Not his wife.

Above all, she trusted J with their son and he treated the three weeks old like a trinket: didn’t drive him home because he had an important meeting, didn’t bother to assign escorting cars nor extra security. The King of Gotham took his child’s safety lightly and it definitely had severe consequences. Too late now to fix past mistakes… but he can attempt.

“You’ll be able to nurse him, OK?” he sits by you and hands over his cell. “Can you enter your phone number in here? Or am I not allowed to have the present digits?”

You’re hesitant and he slides the screen while you hold the gadget.

“Lemme help you,” The Joker sarcastically mumbles. “It should be the first on my list, right where the old number you canceled was.”

You exhale and fulfill his demand out of pure frustration when he squeezes in a second innocent petition.

“Chose my avatar.”

You grunt at his rubbish, scrolling through his folders for a picture anyway; J hopes the largest file will get your attention and that’s the point. How could Y/N miss it?!

Entitled “Baby”, the humongous cluster of pics contains 5,723 items. You open it quite absorbed by its size; what’s more puzzling is the collection depicting Kase’s ultrasounds, hundreds of frames with you being pregnant taken without you knowing: there’s a few when your ankles were so swollen you had to sleep with your feet up on 4 pillows, others with you munching on strange food you craved, more with you in the shower focused on your bump, a decent amount of couple selfies when you were sleeping and J had to immortalize the moment without waking you up and approximately 1,500 images of the newborn.

“You didn’t gross me out when you were pregnant,” The Joker reminds a teary Y/N. “Not sure why you would believe such aberration…” he pulls you on his knees and yanks the phone away, tossing it on the nightstand. “I would also like to underline I didn’t have an affair with Miss Black, alright?”

J lifts your chin up, forcing to look at him.

“Let’s put it this way: why would I fuck around with another woman when I have a wife at home that wants to kill me on a regular basis, hm? Where would the fun be? I mean, she didn’t pull the trigger yet but it’s exciting to hope she might. You know me: I’m a sucker for thrills!”

“Do I?”

“Huh?” J steals a kiss and you frown at his sleekness.

“Know you?”

“Yeah,” the green haired Clown acts composed while in fact his feathers are ruffled. Before you catch onto it he has to ultimately admit: “I’m sorry I didn’t drive the car… I should have…”

The Joker holds in his breath when your arms go around his neck very tight.

“I’m suffocating…” he grumbles. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or choke me to death,” J keeps on caressing your hair, prepared to block your attack in case you’re actually in killing mode.

This is the excitement he was speaking about: with you, one could never know until it’s a done deal.

“I bumped into Magnus at the Continental,” you give him a bit of space to inhale much needed air and The Joker is surprised at your revelation. “I had no idea about his scheme, otherwise I would have skinned him alive right on the hotel grounds! I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” J cuts you off and he can tell you’re getting mad; maybe you think he doesn’t give a damn but the reason is simple. “You would’ve been declared excommunicado for murder on neutral ground and I don’t want my wife to be the target of such punishment from the company she so proudly retired from. I need my partner!”

The King of Gotham touches your forehead with his as you whisper:

“I hate you!”

“Mmm, regarding this true love affirmation, I’m gonna need you to take a break from detesting me until we have Kase, then you can despise me full throttle again. Deal?” he extends the palm of his hand and you reluctantly shake it, not realizing you’re reacting to his nonsense. “Is that a smile?” J returns the favor with one of his creepy silver grins.

“No.”

“Liar,” he pecks your lips and can’t explain the weird feeling in his heart when you kiss him back.

*************

Jonathan enters the house and becomes suspicious after a few minutes: too much silence.

Omg! Did you and The Joker engaged into a brawling that ended up badly? Did you end each other?!

John frantically runs to the garage, nervous to see your car and J’s are still parked inside. Shit!

“Y/N?” he shouts, concerned about your fate; The Joker’s… irrelevant. Nobody in the garden, patio is empty also. Downstairs is deserted thus he rushes upstairs to your room. The door is not completely shut and he slowly pushes it, knocking.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

The first thing he notices are clothes scattered on the floor, then he halts his movement at the sight of Y/N and her husband dozing off on the bed sideways: the naked bodies are covered with a blanket, but he can tell you’re snuggled in J’s arms.

Jonathan steps backwards, guilty of invading his guests’ privacy; he certainly didn’t expect to intrude in such a manner and softly closes the door, grateful it’s not what he feared. 

You and The Joker are so worn out the sound of your phones vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t wake you from the deep sleep. Your numerous contacts keep replying back to the text messages, the most important one showing up on his cell: one of the people J reached to is Evelyn Black and the two sentence conversation lights up the screen.

“Let me know if you see Stonnenberg.”

“He’s here.”


End file.
